But first, a little more on GWTW. I watched the whole first half of the movie. What this film does best is make you feel the horrors of different aspects of the war: living under seige, seeing everything you know destroyed, losing loved ones in battle, and of course, the waste and futility of it all, especially in that scene of all the wounded lying near the Atlanta railroad tracks, waiting for help that is probably never coming. I was verklempt [choked up] through the whole thing. But as Jen mentioned, you really want to see a Civil War movie, see Gettysburg, because it is so precise and quietly shows what it takes to make a soldier, let alone break one, and gives a much better sense of what was really happening, both politically and militarily. It's an excellent movie. (And the Ken Burns documentary, also tip-top.)So R has been taking this improv class, and today is the day of the show they do at the end. It's a Sunday afternoon and I'd like to go. How to go is another story. I can go in with her, but she'll stay and hang out with her classmates afterward, and I'm not getting back on a subway by myself. So I thought, what the hell, and Friday, I mentioned it to the Hubs and he said he'd think about it. Yesterday, he said he'd like to go, too. Holy Astonishment, Batman!
As of right now, I don't know if he's driving us all in -- which would be the best -- or if we'll take public trans. Either way is okay, really; he'd remember how to do the public trans backwards, and we'd be going in with R. She'll come home by subway/bus either way, but she does that every week. I'm very psyched. It's a short show, which is that much the better, but I feel very good about going. I'll finish this entry later, when I get back.
The Hubs also said last night, and he knew that this was poddish behavior, did I want to go see Good Night, and Good Luck next weekend? A movie? HE WANTS TO GO TO A MOVIE!!!??? I'm thinking he hasn't been in a movie theater in ten to fifteen years (and he practically lived at the movies when he was a kid.)
La la la, still waiting to go. The Hubs is going to drive. In the meantime, I thought I'd mention how in recent years I've become the Ebenezeer Scrooge of Halloween. I simply have no patience for it and what it's become. I am creeped out by the sort of house decorations that involve turning your yard into a cemetery. How do they explain that to children, exactly? Then there was this story the other day. And all the creeps who prey on children, sheesh. In New Jersey, registered sex offenders may not leave their homes on Halloween or answer the door to trick-or-treaters. More and more kids at the high school every year wear purchased costumes, which defeats the purpose of a contest, as far as I'm concerned. Oh, and they made the announcement the other day of all the kinds of things the kids can't wear: anything political, religious, violent, offensive, in poor taste, etc. etc. and have fun! It's become a most annoying holiday to me. But I'm just being Scroogish.
Hours later, we're home. It was cute, and interesting. There were twelve students in this session of the class; R was the only female. For the show, they were divided into two teams, and each one did a 25 minute set. She has lots of experience in this, and I thought she was good as were several of the others, but there were one or two on each team who really dominated the action, not necessarily with good cause, or effect. One of the dominant personalities in the second group -- hers went first -- got stuck on being a character who was a morbidly obese gym teacher, and it wore thin ... well, immediately. It was not in good taste, nor was it funny. Too bad, because he was a talented guy; he just should have found something else to play. But I was very glad we went in to see the show.
(As an aside, I was happy for the opportunity to continue a long tradition. Both my kids were in the high school drama club, as were my sister's three kids before them. Starting with my oldest nephew, we would give him flowers after each show because everybody did that, but my father would also bring him a 2 liter bottle of Pepsi, which he would chug right there in the lobby after the show because he was always so hot and thirsty after the performance. [He often played the lead.] So for all of them from then on, even if they didn't perform and worked backstage instead, as all the girls did, there were flowers and Pepsi after every show. I missed my oppportunities when R was performing in Wales, and for the last two improv shows she did in New York. But I brought a single-serve Pepsi with me and a single rose, in a small cooler. When she asked why I had it with me, I told her I was bringing a snack for the ride home. So she was surprised when I gave them to her after the performance, and pleased. Love traditions, man.)
I have no idea what time it is because I'm all farblundget [mixed up] with the clock change today. It may be time for dinner, or maybe not. *sigh* What the hell.
